


Deal with a Demon

by SwashbuckLore



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Demons, F/M, Feels, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Motorcycles, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers's Motorcycle, Suicidal Thoughts, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:52:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwashbuckLore/pseuds/SwashbuckLore
Summary: December 2018 update: I dont know if or how I'm going to finish this story. If the muse comes back I'll write or rewrite this. I'm sorry, y'all.Bucky narrowed his eyes. "You're the reason I'm alive, aren't you?""I am." The matchstick declared. "What, no thank you for me? I'm the best damn guardian demon an idiot with a death wish could ask for.""I don't care if you're the worst. Leave me alone." Bucky growled. "I didn't ask for a 'guardian,' and in case you hadn't guessed, punk, I hella don't want one.""The name is Steve, not punk." The matchstick corrected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Prepare yourselves for a triiiiiiiip, friends, because I'm about to have fun. Hope you enjoy. Please read the tags for warnings. This fic is going to be rated M, btw. Eventually ;)

August 3, forty pills, five swallows. The taste of the lukewarm water, the slide of the pills, the rush of the night wind through his car windows. These details remained clear when he woke up the next morning, his mouth sour with the aftertaste of vomit. 

Last month, Bucky jumped off a parking garage, electrocuted himself in the bathtub, crashed into a tree on purpose, and hung himself. And yet, despite his persistence, he woke up every morning inexplicably alive in the same state he'd come back from the war: handicapped, isolated, desperately confused, and fuckingly depressed.

He didn't know why he hadn't died in war. He didn't know why he couldn't die now. He didn't know how to escape his demons, and he didn't want anything else. He was done, fuck it all, finished and through and goddamn done. Bucky curled up against the icy tile of his bathroom floor and stayed there. 

He woke up to an unfamiliar voice muttering "Dammit," as a hand connected with his shoulder. In the next instant, Bucky instinctively shifted into combat, pinning the stranger before he completely came awake. He had the other guy pressing into the tile, forearm braced against his neck, knees on either side of the guy's ribs, before he realized his assailant was miniature. His gaze traveled over the overlarge sweatshirt to the slender column of the throat and the pronounced bones of the face before catching on the guy's arresting scarlet eyes.

Great, the pills hadn't killed him, just driven him totally insane. He was hallucinating some kind of red-eyed matchstick in his bathroom. Seriously, the guy was scrawny. This was a hella weird side effect for dehydration. The hallucinatory matchstick-sized guy glared up at him, pissed off. "Get off," he choked out. "Get - the hell - off - pal."

"Pal?" He repeated, the demand not registering in his brain. His brain was busy freaking out over the fact that he was still hallucinating, that he was likely insane. This is not part of my five year plan, Bucky thought, and a hysterical laugh nearly escaped him.

"Dammit," the miniature hallucination hissed, and suddenly Bucky thudded to the floor, the hallucination reforming in front of him. He studied the detail of the hallucination's beat up sneakers, and - well, Bucky had felt the stuttering of his pulse, the vibration of his words, the harried brush of his breath. 

"You're ... real?" he queried.

"Yeah, genius." The matchstick snarled, straightening his hoodie haughtily. His eyes blazed ruby with indignation. 

"How- " Bucky pushed himself to his knees, then grabbed the counter, nauseous from the sudden move and his lack of balance. The bathroom tilted directions it wasn't supposed to go. "How did you get in?"

Matchstick squinted at him. "If I answer, you owe me an answer; deal?"

"Uh-huh." Bucky answered distractedly, wanting nothing more than to flop back onto the floor. 

"Magic." The matchstick replied smugly.

"Yeah-huh." Bucky rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, pal. Magic exists. Surprise. Want me to pull a damn rabbit out of your stupid ass to prove it?" The matchstick snapped, back to being small and sassily frustrated. He snapped his fingers, and they were in the living room. The matchstick took a healthy swallow of a beer that had appeared in his hand.

Magic. Nausea rising, Bucky looked around himself. Teleportation in his own home. Unless he was high, or the last month hadn't happened, the matchstick was telling the truth. Bucky narrowed his eyes. "You're the reason I'm alive, aren't you?"

"I am." The matchstick declared. Nausea forgotten, Bucky lunged for him, twisting his fist in the guy's hoodie front, knocking them both into the wall. Beer sloshed over them both. Unimpressed, the matchstick cocked an eyebrow. "What, no thank you for me? I'm the best damn guardian demon an idiot with a death wish could ask for." As he spoke, the beer vanished from his sweatshirt.

"I don't care if you're the worst. Leave me alone." Bucky growled. "I didn't ask for a 'guardian,' and in case you hadn't guessed, punk, I hella don't want one." 

"The name is Steve, not punk, and I'm calling in the answer I bargained for earlier. Answer me this - why do you want to die?" 

Bucky swallowed hard, letting go of Steve. Why did he want to die? No one would give a fucking shit if he were gone. He was a disappointment. He was a failure. He was unnecessary. He didn't ever feel safe anymore, and he couldn't imagine anything resembling a good future for himself. There were tons of vets who could use the time and money that would be wasted on him if he stuck around. He hated himself and he didn't want to be hurt anymore - he was so fucking tired of hurting - he was choking on his pain - he was drowning and no one could see and - 

He shut down, chest heaving, on the verge of a panic attack. "Escape." he wanted. "It's freedom."

"Heaven or Hell isn't the escape you're looking for." Steve said gently. "Honestly, pal. It fucking hurts, life, but it's too much to let go of. There's too much unknown to give away. You're strong, James. You're a stubborn ass fighter. You're just lost right now." 

"Shut the hell up." Bucky said tonelessly.

"Listen to me." Steve said fiercely. "You can't give up because I won't give up on you. I believe in you, and I'm with you til the end of the line, pal."

"You don't even know me." Bucky laughed, a decayed kind of mirth.

"Then give me the chance to." Steve challenged. "I'll make you a deal. Give me a year. Give me a year to get to know you without anymore suicide attempts, and if you still wanna die in a year, I'll ... I'll let you." he finished quietly.

Bucky slumped. One year before this Steve's magic stopped interfering with his escape? God, why? "Why do you care?" 

"Because you're worth it." Steve murmured


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation and croissants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments and kudos on the last chapter delighted me, so a big thank you to all you fabulous readers! Here's another chapter for you, just because you're wonderful :)

Sergeant!

Gunshots shaking the air around him

\- Pal? -

Ghostly screams in his ears

\- Bucky? - 

A warzone of fire and explosions in front of him, behind him, under his eyelids 

\- Bucky! -

the ugly taste of blood and explosions

\- "Bucky, pal, you're home. You're home. You're safe. Wake up - wake up! It's a nightmare, dammit!" Steve swore. Eyes not even open, Bucky twisted to attack, but there was nothing there. He came awake, wheezing, the phantom pain in his absent arm flaring white and sharp like a thousand pieces of hot shrapnel.

The demon stood a few feet from the bed, wearing a button up blue shirt today and nice jeans. Great. He wasn't a dream. Bucky felt like growling. The meddling sassbot was keeping him from his own life for a year. 

"The hell - the hell you doing in my room, Steve?" Bucky managed to get out, finally. He was vaguely ashamed of the mess of garbage and clothes and miscellaneous shit lying around in the dark room he'd spent so much of his time in since he'd moved into the apartment. 

"Coming to assess the sleeping bear in his habitat - and an unhappy one it is at that. Have the zookeepers been neglecting you?" The demon asked sweetly. 

"What zookeepers? I'm alone." Bucky muttered. Why was this matchstick here? Bucky had agreed to the deal - highly reluctantly - last night. While he had been coaxed and  argued and threatened into it, he had given his word. And that still meant something to him. Steve had three hundred and sixty four days before he needed to worry about Bucky trying to off himself.

"You have family." Steve said flatly. "I checked your email." 

"Of course you did. Stalker." Bucky muttered, rolling over, away from Steve. He couldn't deal with this before noon. It was only eleven on the morning.

"Stupid." Steve materialized on the other side of the bed, crunching atop a chip bag and a pair of sunglasses from the sound of it. "I was curious who you've been ignoring, and you were snoring, and your passwords are pathetic."

"Just like me." Bucky smiled insincerely at the matchstick. Steve smiled just as insincerely back.

"I don't waste time and energy on pathetic people. C'mon, get up."

"What? No." Bucky grumbled.

"Time is ticking, and I only have a year to get to know you, so we're starting now." Steve yanked the blankets off. "Get dressed or I'll take you in your boxers, pal." 

Bucky got dressed only because he knew the demon was stubborn enough to actually take him god-knew-where in his underwear. He threw on his least dirty pair of jeans and an old red Henley that was comfortable, even if he didn't for it right anymore. It stretched over his chest and hung depressingly loose over his left arm. 

"Do you like breakfast cafes?" Steve inquired, breaking his train of thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Bucky slouched in the metal chair, glaring at Steve. "Could you not?" he snapped. 

"What? Teleportation is much more reliable and environment-friendly than cars." Steve smirked. "Croissant?" He offered a plate of buttered deliciousness. Bucky glared harder. Steve shrugged. "More for me. And my host doesn't mind at all." He grinned, looking like a kid with a pillow case full of Halloween candy

Against his better judgement - which he had been ignoring frequently lately - Bucky asked. "Your host?"

"This body isn't exactly mine." Steve explained after eating his first croissant with great gusto. "Did you know the taste of butter used to be associated with Satan?"

"Not - exactly - yours?" Bucky repeated, ignoring the glaringly red herring of butter and Satan. 

"Well." Steve set down the plate of croissants. "I'm a demon, pal. I don't exist quite right on the mortal plane. So I had to take a host body. It's much easier than attempting to create one. You have no idea if how tricky the human body is. Seriously. All those stupid little cells and -"

"You stole someone else's body?" Bucky hissed. "There's a real person in there?" He wondered how exactly to free the person. Could he? What if they had been driven insane by having a demon living in them?

Hurt flickered across Steve's face, quickly disguised by a raised eyebrow and snark. "No. The previous soul vacated due to an unfortunate litany of illnesses and is currently in Heaven or Hell, one of the two." 

"So you're in a dead body?" Bucky queried. Gross.

"No, I'm in my body, thickskull. It was empty, I took it, I've kept it alive. You finished with the stupid questions?" Steve sassed.

"So you're in a dead body." Bucky said, relieved and surprised at the energy he was spending in this conversation. It was exhausting, but there was a faint pleasure edging his annoyance with the demon. No one had bothered in so long.

"I've been in many things, trouble and yo momma being two of them, but a dead body is not one." Steve shot back, his smirk returning.

"You're too sassy for a matchstick." Bucky mumbled. "Gonna get yourself snapped in two by someone who has the arms to do it."

"A - a matchstick?!" Steve spluttered. "A. Matchstick?"

"Yeah, Your Shortness." Bucky replied. Steve's eyes flared ruby. 

"Try snapping me." He challenged. "Just fucking try, dammit."

"Only got one fucking arm, genius." Bucky shot back bitterly. "Or didn't you notice?" 

"Hmm, now that you mention it ..." Steve faked a look of surprise. "Touchy McGrumpypants is missing something!" He took a deep breath, giving Bucky the chance to gain control of the stab of pain that went through him. "That brings me to the second step for today. We're going to Stark Labs."

Bucky snorted. "Yeah-huh. And then the moon." On second thought, Steve could probably teleport them there. Bucky frowned.

"We're not going to the ball of cheese in the sky. What would we do there? Wine tasting?" Steve propped his chin on his hand. "Nope. We're going to get you a new arm."


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's four sixteen a.m and I'm inspired. Enjoy?

Bucky froze. An arm. They were ... An arm. An arm? They were going to get him - "This is a dream." He decided. It had all been a dream. He was going to wake up in the army hospital to the dull white ceilings and the lights that buzzed a one-note song for those lying beneath them. 

"What's it going to take to convince you I'm real?" Steve asked, exasperated. "Should I make the clouds spell it out for you? Steve - is - real. Heh. The weatherpeople would have fun with that. My higher-ups would also eat me alive. With lemon pepper and cilantro." He grabbed Bucky's hand. "Lookie, bucko, I'm real. See, feel. Tangibility. Whoo-hoo!" 

"Yeah, you're a real pain in the ass." Bucky said, pulling free. "Could you try to not be a public spectacle?" The other cafe-goers were staring. Bucky could feel their gazes, heavy as a pack of rocks. He shifted in his seat. Why the hell was his guardian demon like this? Why couldn't he have gotten a normal guy? Then he wondered what part of having a demon as a guardian was normal. 

"What are you exactly?" He leaned across the table to ask quietly.

"I'm Steve." Steve's face suggested he knew exactly what Bucky had been asking, he was just being a little shit about it.

"I asked what, not who." Bucky hissed. Hurt zipped over Steve's face again. Dammit. His face was expressive, and ... handsome, Bucky would reluctantly admit. Not that he admired it. At all. Whatsoever. Goddammit. "I mean," he sighed, gentler. Somewhat. "I mean, you said you're a demon, but what does that mean?

"What am I?" Steve grimaced. "I'm complicated. Demon is a blanket term. Specifically what I am is a whole mess of terminology you don't have the security clearance to hear about. I'm being honest here, pal. I'm a fallen one, I could say. I'm a dark being. I'm not human. I'm a piece of the universe and a twist of fate and a consciousness barely held together. Am I making sense?" He smiled ruefully, genuinely, and Bucky got a glimpse of his own tired pain and loneliness in this being's eyes.

"Did you mean it? About the arm?" Bucky queried in response. 

"Dead serious." Steve nodded sharply. 

"Can we catch a taxi like normal people, though?" Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve. Steve grinned.

"Nope. What gave you the idea we were trying to be normal people?" 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bucky staggered against the nearest wall, dry heaving. He tuned out Steve's babbled apology, trying to gain control of his spinning head, his twisted gut, his blacked out vision. He felt like he'd been put through an entire wash cycle squashed into three seconds. The sensation lingered, crushing into him, and he sank to the floor, gasping for breath. 

When he finally gained control, he realized he was kneeling, his head resting on a shoulder, thin surprisingly strong arms around his ribs. He sagged slightly, his lungs still shaky, and inhaled the faint smell of smoke and some kinda incense. 

"James?" Steve asked softly, his arms tightening. Bucky nodded, and pulled away. Steve's hands lingered as he scanned Bucky's face. "I forgot to warn you about long distances with us unconnected. I should have grabbed your hand. That was my fault, I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Bucky rasped. 

"The fuck?" A new voice said. A dark haired man stood in the doorway of the dark room they were in, his hand frozen above the light switch. He looked at them like they were impossible.

"Tony!" Steve exclaimed, hopping to his feet. He offered Bucky a hand, but Bucky used the wall, not exactly trusting his matchstick demon to be able to pull him up. "I have found you a new test subject for Project Soldier." 

"Test subject?!" Bucky snapped as Tony squinted and exclaimed: "Steve? What. What happened to seven feet tall and muscles?"

"Uh." Steve smiled nervously. "Not important. It's a long boring story involving my higher ups, and that's never fun to hear about."

"You got downgraded." Tony guessed. "It's been a long time, Steve. I wondered if you'd gone for good."

"Test. Subject?" Bucky repeated.

"Oh yeah!" Steve spun. "Bucky, meet Tony, inventor and damn tricky bastard. Tony, meet Bucky, stubborn ass fighter. He's the one, Tony. Don't worry about the test subject stuff, Buck, Tony's a genius." 

The genius was currently eying Bucky analytically and appreciatively. "Well, if you're willing to deal with me, you lucky dog, I can make you one."

"What is going on here?" Bucky growled.

"I make robots." Tony said. "I can give you a robotic arm. We can talk about what you want specialized in it. You look like a taser kinda guy."

"I can't afford a prosthetic." Bucky objected. It had been one of the more painful decisions he's made since coming home. It was either Rebecca or him, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna leave her hangingwhen she deserved the cash far more than he did. 

"As this is a project that isn't finished and marketed yet, I'd pay you to be one of my test subjects, and we could work it out so that I pay you with your arm, yeah?" Tony said cheerfully. "Let's get started. Take off your clothes. Just kidding, just kidding, I only need you to take off your shirt."

"Uh." Bucky looked between Steve and Tony. This was going so fast it felt like a joke. He glanced behind Steve and saw the dim tables of tools and wires and gadgets, proving they were in a lab, but still he hesitated. His scars ...

"Buck?" Steve questioned, stepping closer. "You alright with that?" 

"I mean." Bucky laughed sharply. "It's not a pretty sight."

"I have a reactor for a heart." Tony shrugged. "Don't worry. I've seen my share of scars." 

Bucky gritted his teeth and grabbed the hem with his hand, yanking it up quickly to keep himself from thinking about it..


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiration and arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here y'all go!

The A/C bit at his bare skin, taunting and twisting around him. Bucky kept his eyes down until Tony whistled.

"Daaaaamn," he drawled, yet his tone wasn't mocking or horrified. It was impressed? Bucky glanced at himself. If you ignored the scars and the missing limb, he didn't look awful. Bucky still exercised a shit ton.

Steve looked like he'd just silently choked. 

"Alright," Tony shook his head distractedly. "Alright. Let's figure out your dimensions, big guy, so we can get this partay started. JARVIS, lights." 

"Yes sir. Would you like me to bring up Project Soldier?" A disembodied British voice inquired. Bukcy startled, searching the now lit room for the speaker.

"Yeah. I have Just A Rather Very Intelligent System in my lab. He's AI." Tony explained. Bucky nodded shortly, flicking his t-shirt over his shoulder and following Tony towards the tables.

"Ms. Potts wants me to remind you that you have a date with her in an hour." JARVIS notified Tony. Steve's lips quirked into an amused smile, and Bucky slowed. It wasn't directed at him, but he noted how a smile changed Steve's face from noteworthy to downright wonderful. It wasn't something he could remember thinking about someone - er, somedemon - what was his life? He shook his head. Just because Steve was handsome didn't mean he had to notice it. He focused on Tony, fiddling with screens and tools, beckoning briefly at Bucky.

Bucky advanced, and Tony tossed him  a handheld thingie. Bucky caught it. "Measure your arm, yeah?" Tony said. Bucky raised an eyebrow. JARVIS spoke up: "Sir." Tony looked back and realized his mistake, but as he fumbled for words, Steve stepped up and held out a hand for the device so matter of factly that Bucky handed over the device without realizing.

"May I?" Steve murmured. Bucky shrugged. Steve took that for a yes and stepped close. He began tracing the device over Bucky's shoulder, a look of concentration on his face. His eyes had dimmed to an almost mahogany shade of red, and he pressed his lips together lightly, his eyebrows furrowed. He slowly moved it over Bucky's skin, precise, methodical.

What would it be like to kiss a demon? Bucky wondered all of a sudden. He looked away abruptly, berating himself sharply. What the hell was he thinking? Bucky kept his eyes up like military training had taught him as Steve grabbed his hand and held it up for the device, but his awareness was sharply focused on the soft roughness of Steve's hands, the gentle way he cradled Bucky's arm as if it were precious, the warm seeping between them. When he made himself snap out of it, he saw he was looking at a screen mirroring him with glowing instructions blipping under his image.

Steve didn't have to look at the screen though. Bucky grimaced. Steve and Tony obviously knew each other, and Steve had known about Tony's project. Steve had probably brought tons of other blown up vets here. Bucky wasn't special or unique or crap. He was just another thing to be fixed. Maybe Steve thought an arm would make Bucky feel like sticking around, make his job easier. This wasn't a gesture, it was a bargain with strings attached.

Bucky had to get his head straightened out. Straight-ened. Hah. As if Bucky was ever gonna be straight. Ever since Grant, he'd known he was bi. Bucky squinted at Steve. Like Grant, he was smaller, almost delicate, but fierce and stubborn. Had - had Steve picked one of Bucky's types? He squinted harder.

"What?" Steve asked quietly. "Are you okay with this?" He still held Bucky's hand. Bucky hesitated. Was he okay with an arm? He'd resigned himself to not having one, and now ...

"You got the measurements?" Tony interrupted. "Come look at your design options. This is my favorite." He pointed out an Ironman-esque arm in red and gold. Steve smirked. Bucky frowned. He wasn't going to be a walking piece of fan-whatever for Tony Stark, even if the guy was giving him an arm for free. 

His eyes fell off a sleek and powerful looking silver piece, shifting plates and black lines. -That looked - good. Simple yet ruthless. The kind of thing that might discourage glances. 

"That one." He said decisively

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapters a little short. Does anyone else really like Bucky's arm tho?


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking and Tony or bikes and blushes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when I decided to start updating this daily. Y'all are lucky bastards. Hope you're enjoying.

Tony nodded, "Nice," and moved to another table. "There's a couch and a TV over there." He gestured towards the back of the room. 

Bucky tugged his shirt over his head and pulled it over his armless side before finagling his way into the other sleeve. Steve didn't offer to help, which was a point to him. Bucky extremely disliked it when people assumed he couldn't do ordinary things. Of course he'd figured out how to get dressed. It wasn't easy, dammit, but he could do it.

A wave of depression hit him. Yeah, he could get dressed. Whoop dee doo. Was he pathetic enough to celebrate the fact that he could put on clothes? Bucky scowled at the whispers in his head that stole his thought's voices and masqueraded as truths. He was pathetic. He wasn't worth the effort Steve and Tony were putting into him. He had tried repeatedly to kill himself. He was shit. He was fucking shit, and he didn't deserve this. He slumped onto the couch, eyes stinging, and scoffed inwardly. Yeah, now was he gonna cry? Was he gonna cry like the loser he was?

"What is it?" Steve whispered, sitting next to him. Bucky shrugged. Steve didn't need to know how much of a mess he was. Steve narrowed his eyes. "What is it? I'm gonna ask until you're honest with me." From the stubborn look on his face, he meant it. Bucky eyed his demon companion. The guy had made him stay alive. If anyone deserved to hear Bucky's crap, it was this idiot.

"Why did you bring me here? I don't deserve this." Bucky mumbled, pressing his eyes shut tightly. 

"Why?" Steve asked.

"Because - I don't know. I'm stupid and - suicidal and worthless and shitty." Bucky growled, picking a few of the words running strong through his head. 

"In your opinion." Steve pointed out immediately. "I think you're determined, severely depressed, and strong but tired. It's okay to be depressed and tired and lonely. That doesn't mean you're bad or worthless. It just means you need someone covering your six, like everybody else. You need a break from everything you're holding up. So let's get you a break. This arm might make stuff easier." Steve didn't know what all Bucky was. He didn't get it.

"But I don't deserve it." Bucky repeated desperately. 

"You do deserve it. You're exhausted, and something's gotta get better. You deserve an easier load after everything you've carried. If you can't believe yourself telling you that, believe me. I'll say it every day if I need to." Steve's eyes were ruby again, fierce and bright.

Bucky shrugged, but something stirred in him, listening painfully hard. Nobody had bothered before. They'd just said he was wrong about himself and babbled on about his service. Gee, thanks. That's always helpful to hear. But Steve meant what he was saying. He sat there and looked Bucky in the eyes and meant it so earnestly Bucky couldn't help but listen a little. He didn't know if he believed it, but he listened to Steve. 

Steve. The name was so incongruous. It sounded like a generic posterboy, not a hella strange demon.

"Do you want to have heat and touch sensors in your arm?" Tony hollered, interrupting. 

"Sensors that will allow you to feel anything your flesh arm does." Steve explained when Bucky squinted. "You wouldn't have to use hot pads with your pots and pans if you don't get the heat sensor. I'd recommend the touch sensors, though. Handy for uh, feeling ... things." Was Steve blushing? Bucky looked at his hand. He wasn't anything special. What could make a demon blush? Suddenly, Steve's expression changed to serious.

"One moment. I'm being summoned. I'll be ba-" he vanished. 

"So how do you two know each other?" Tony asked, somewhat sarcastically. Bucky gave him a baleful glance.

"He's kept me alive for a month."

"Ah." Tony peeked at him. "You don't seem to happy about that, pal."

"Don't call me pal." Bucky snapped.

"Geez, fine." Tony snipped right back. "So you didn't sell your soul to him?" 

"What?" 

"He's a demon. He can legally take someone's soul. Legit. I met him in college when I was drunk and playing with a Ouji or something like that. Stupidest thing I've done that hasn't gotten me into severe trouble. I'm lucky Steve answered. He's a good guy."

"He's a demon." Bucky said, feeling as if he shouldn't have to point this out.

"Stop thinking of him as just a demon." Tony advised. "Think of him as a very powerful friend. Like me."

"Did you just compare yourself to Steve?" Bucky asked, amused despite himself. Tony grinned and shrugged.

"What? We can both do things ordinary mortals can't. We're both awesome. We're both here for the money and the women - or the men, in Steve's case." Tony peeked at Bucky again. His expression made Tony warn: "Don't be an asshole. Yeah, Steve's gay. No, that shouldn't be a big deal." 

Bucky kept his confused thoughts - involving Grant and types and fierce attractive blondes - to himself. Well, at least he understood maybe why Steve had blushed. 

"Hey, have you ridden a motorcycle before?" Tony asked randomly. "You look like a biker with your long hair and half beard thing." Bucky scowled. "Yep, and that exact expression. Totally a biker, am I right?"

"I'm missing some essential equipment for biking." Bucky grumbled. Yes, Tony was right. Like he'd admit he had his old bike in his garage still, though.

"Not for long," Tony gestured with his tools. "Steve bikes crazy good. I'd pay to see you two street race. And I'm a billionaire, in case you didn't know.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Street racing Steve. Great idea. He would likely end up soulless and smashed into the pavement. He had a sudden mental image of Steve in racing leathers, though, and smiled a little. Now that he wouldn't mind seeing. Maybe it would be worth the smashed/soulless part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehe Bucky has feeeeeeeeeeeeelings ... And not all of them are sad


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Fell asleep last night before I could finish this chapter. Um, I hope y'all enjoy.

"You're thinking about it!" Tony crowed. "Hah-hah, let's get you this arm fast, Bikeman."

"Is the arm now conditional upon a race?" Bucky sighed.

"I mean." Tony grinned brightly at Bucky. "What if I was so disappointed about no race that I accidentally installed speakers in your arm that only played Taylor Swift songs? Oh, the horror!" He shook his head with fake sorrow. 

Steve reappeared, a long burn running down his face. "Hey, guys." He sounded exhausted. "Tony, you're going on a date in a t-shirt and old jeans?"

"Pepper would castrate me." Tony checked his watch. "Right. I have meetings after my date, but would later this evening work for a fitting?" 

"Bucky has plans. Tomorrow at ten?" Steve spoke up, tired but adamant. Bucky stared at Steve, hella confused. Plans? Not to his knowledge unless 'go home and exercise then sleep' was a plan.

"Okay." Tony shrugged. Steve grabbed Bucky's wrist tightly, his fingers digging in like he was scared of losing Bucky.

"Is this a good -"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The extreme vertigo and nausea were absent from this trip, but wherever they landed, Bucky didn't recognize it.

"- idea?"Steve staggered against Bucky. "Whoa, what's wrong?" Bucky felt a trace of his old self emerge, the strong and protective and whole version of James Buchanan Barnes. He wrapped his arm around the demon and guided them both carefully to their knees. "Steve?" Steve's eyelids fluttered. 

"Heeey," he whispered, tissue paper thin. "Over ... Over-ex...ertion."

"We should have taken a taxi, you showy punk." Bucky berated. "Where the hell are we?" 

"My place." Steve breathed. Bucky frowned as he noted the burn on Steve's face had gotten uglier. Steve snapped his fingers, and they were kneeling in a bedroom. Bucky blinked, then swore as Steve slumped into him completely. 

It was extremely tricky with one arm, but Bucky managed to get Steve flopped over one shoulder and carried him over onto the massive bed.

Unconscious, Steve looked small and so very human. Young. Even beautiful. He looked like someone to be protected and befriended, and Bucky felt stirrings of himself again. Maybe this was what he needed: a friend. A friend that didn't take his crap but didn't ignore his pain and wouldn't take taxis, the stupid punk. Bucky shook his head, amused, before he went in search of the medicine cabinet.

He found a large cabinet in the kitchen full of a variety of witchy looking supplies, modern medicine, and contraband drugs. He smirked. Looked like Steve's life was wilder than it appeared. Wait. He was a demon that teleported places and hung out with depressed vets and crazy billionaires. His life was probably way wilder than merely getting high. 

The burn ointment he was looking for was in there. He took it and wandered back to the master bedroom. Once there, he hesitated - would Steve be okay with this? - then he unscrewed the little bottle and liberally dipped his fingers in the opaque stuff. The burn looked damn painful. Steve had done a crap ton for him already. He could do this for Steve.

He gently smeared the stuff onto the burn, wincing and whispering an apology as Steve flinched in his sleep. Who or what had done this to Steve? Why had he been summoned? Questions buzzed around his brain, distracting him to the point that he didn't realize Steve's eyes had cracked open. He finished and left the room before seeing the surprised smile appear on the demon's face as Steve drifted back to sleep.

Bucky ended up on the couch, unsure how much he wanted to explore Steve's place. He didn't know what kind of stuff he'd find. He blushed and smirked as his mind wandered naughty places. Honestly, self? C'mon. Steve was a f-r-i-e-n-d, even if he looked like someone Bucky would have pinned to the wall and kissed senseless before. 

Before. Bucky's mood abruptly darkened. Before he'd gone to shoot people, kill them. He laid down on the couch and curled up as the AC whirred on. Before he'd lost men and an arm and his sanity. Before everything had gone to hell in shattered bloody pieces. 

He knew he was supposed to stop thinking things like this that triggered him, but the thoughts crept up on him like tigers and ripped into his mind with the ferocity of claws.

He burrowed deeper into the couch. He was tired of it all, tired of fighting people, tired of fighting himself, exhausted at the thought of another year. The only piece of sunshine he could see was Steve, and Steve was unavailable to brighten his mood now. 

Was that what he saw Steve as? Sunshine? He was a demon, for god's sake. But Bucky had woken up so many times from a night of absolute darkness and felt a flicker of dawn when he found he was still alive. There had been confusion and frustration as well, but the underlying emotion had been a deep, deep down relief, some starved part of him blinking at the rays of light that slipped down to warm his center.

Bucky sought an escape in sleep from these heavy thoughts and sank into an uneasy doze that deepened as the sunlight lengthened across the floor.

The apartment was beautiful, tasteful splashes of accenting color to balance the white walls and dark floors. Lots of windows to let in natural light and give a great view of the city. Comfortable couches and a big kitchen. 

Bucky woke up when his stomach begged loudly in response to the smell of fresh bread. He opened his eyes to find someone bending over him. "Gah!" Bucky floundered with the blanket that had appeared sometime in his sleep. 

"Easy! It's Steve." The someone resolved from blurry shadows to the newly familiar face of his demon. Steve. Right. Bucky flung off the blanket anyways, but he didn't attack, which was something.

The burn was now bandaged, and Steve smiled crookedly as Bucky's eyes lingered on the gauze. "Wanna eat?" Steve queried. Bucky's stomach grumbled an emphatic yes. Bucky shrugged, his fatigue lingering. "I ordered fresh bread and Italian. Do you like pasta?" 

"I'm a New Yorker. I love Italian." Bucky mumbled. "Where's the food, matchstick?"

"Matchstick?" Steve demanded. "You - jerk!"

"Punk!"

"I am not a punk, and now I'm not sharing my Italian."

Bucky felt a smirk trying to escape onto his face. "Didn't want it anyway." His stomach protested embarrassingly loudly at that.

"Uh huh." Steve cackled. "Keep telling yourself that, bucko." 

"The name's Bucky, Stevie." Bucky said, trying to be annoying.

"I like that." Steve decided. "You may have some of my Italian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling a little discouraged about my writing - would appreciate any constructive criticism or comments on your opinion of how I'm doing.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Italian and Intruders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to meet some antagonists, y'all?

If he got creative, Bucky counted four exits in the room as he ate with Steve. One of them was the balcony window, and considering they appeared to be on a high floor, that one was more of a death wish than an escape. At least, it was a death wish for a guy with one arm. Not for much longer, an unexpectedly delighted voice piped up in his head. He had a mental image of swinging from balcony to balcony like a boss metal armed war monkey, and the image caused him to grin around his fork. 

"What?" Steve noticed.

"My brain is being weird." Bucky shrugged one shoulder, not sure if he could explain the image to Steve without sounding like a crazy fool. "How long have you had this place?"

"Okay, subject change, but about three years." 

"What's the rent?" Bucky queried, looking around at all the space. "Can't be cheap."

"I haven't paid the owner a dollar for rent." Steve replied, a little too casually.

"Uh-huh." Bucky nodded, just as casual. He wondered if Steve would explain anyways or explode with his secret. Damn. This place was free? Being a demon didn't seem so bad if it had these perks.

"You're not curious?" Steve finally burst.

"You want me to be?" Bucky returned calmly, twirling a forkful of spaghetti, his attention seemingly focused on the plate. He was cackling inside. Needling Steve was fun after all the stunts the guy had pulled. 

A loud knock came at the door, sharp three beats, pause, sharp two, pause one final rap, and Steve's face hardened. "Go to the master bathroom." Steve ordered. "Now, please, Buck." 

Bucky stood, but he didn't like the look in Steve's eyes. It was part pain, part anger, part what could have been old fears. Bucky knew that look. He'd felt it on his own face during war. "Do you need backup?"

"No, pal, I need you to be safe; I can handle them if you're locked in the bathroom. Please, Buck." The knocks came again.

"Just don't answer if it's going to be that dangerous." Bucky suggested, then Steve was grabbing Bucky, and he found himself just outside the bathroom with no Steve a moment later. He glared at the wall but wandered into the bathroom, partially out of curiousity. 

The tile was made of unusual looking rock, and it covered every part of the wall, floor, door and ceiling. Bucky frowned. He sat on the edge of the bath to feel at the tile, and he noticed one of the bathroom doors was cracked open; something was glowing in there. 

He pulled it open to find a security camera monitor. Damn. He looked carefully across the screen and found a door with three people standing in front of it. Two men, one woman. On the black and white screen, it looked like an old movie, one where the good guy is about to get ambushed. Steve opened the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Maria glared at the door. SR1939 was being difficult. The door cracked open as she raised her fist to give a final warning.

"Hill." SR1939 greeted, his crimson eyes cautious. "What brings you here?" Odinsen shifted threateningly at her side, glowering. His introduction to SR1939 had been messy, if memory served her right. At her left, Barton was scanning the apartment.

"A check." Odinsen growled.

"Who's your guest?" Barton asked quietly. 

SR1939 glanced back at the two plates in the table, then bristled at the three. "None of your business. He's not in need of your 'monitoring,' friends; sorry to disappoint."

"Do we have any need of reminding you of the Code?" Maria asked.

"I'm your cleanest customer, sweetheart." SR1939 sneered.

"Then you won't mind us doing a routine checkup?" Maria asked coolly. SR1939 gave her a look that said drop dead quite clearly, but he held the door open. "Thank you for your cooperation." She stepped forward, but SR1939 held up a hand.

"First, may I know why I am being subjected to this?" 

"Because, SR1939, three other supernatural beings have been released into the city, and it is imperative to find and educate them before any ... problems arise. I'm sure you understand that." Maria explained icily. The being that called himself Steve smiled viciously and allowed them in.

"Do you swear that you have abided by the Code?" Maria inquired once they were situated in the living area. A brand glowed through SR1939's shirt. 

"I have made a deal without Consulting." He gritted out, the glow lessening. The burning brand on his tongue probably contributed to his terse tone. His inborn resistance was likely the other contributor. "A benevolent deal to save someone's life." He added belligerently. The glow faded away, and he rubbed at it angrily.

"So you can gnaw at their soul like the rat you are?" Odinsen scoffed.

"Thor." Maria's tone was flat, but Odinsen silenced immediately. "Have you considered the Director's offer?"

"He'll use his own legs, severed, as crutches on the path to Hell before I join The Shield." SR1939's responses were inevitably gruesome and creative, and he did not disappoint. Maria nodded, unperturbed, before she uttered the standard security incantation, drawing on Odinsen's strength to do so. The apartment revealed no trace of other demonic beings, though the afterauras of three mutants and one warrior lingered strong. Visitors that meant something to 'Steve' most likely. The warrior's aura was strongest. Likely the visitor that SR1939 had stashed away before answering the summoning knock.

"Do you swear to abide by the Code? To keep your presence discrete? To Consult before a deal? To manage your affairs by the laws of the Code? To uphold the -" Maria began.

"I swear." SR1939 interrupted, his brands flaring white hot. Pain rushed over his face, but it passed quickly. Maria didn't waste her sympathy on the creature. She nodded to SR1939, gathered Barton and Odinsen, and left as abruptly as they had come. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Bucky watched the entire exchange on camera, maddened but the lack of audio and the screen glitches during several parts of the conversation, startled by the raw brutality of the blond giant's appearance and the cunning focus of the other guy. After locking the door, Steve sank to the floor with a shudder.

Bucky scrambled for the main room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be mad, guys. If you like Clint, Hill, and Thor, there is this thing called character development. Just saying
> 
> To those who left kudos and comments, I thank you. That brightened my day and wowed me. Your support is special. I appreciate y'all!
> 
> Also tell me if you want to know more about The Shield and The Code?


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brands and blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is blood in this chapter, head's up. Nothing too graphic? IDK. Let me know if I need to add a warning tag for it.

"I'm fine, dammit," Steve hissed as Bucky helped ease him into a sitting position. Drawing deep inaudible breaths, he leaned against the door, and at long last, Steve let out a self deprecating laugh. "I'm supposed to be helping you. Dammit." He repeated emphatically.

"Who was that fucking trio?" Bucky demanded, confused and pissed. 

"Not your problem, big fella." Steve patted his shoulder, and it surprisingly felt sincere. Then his face contorted, and he bent over as the branded glyph seared into him with renewed force. He suffered in agonized silence, his mouth hanging open as he gasped like he couldn't get air. 

"Breathe," Bucky said helplessly. Steve literally tore at his shirt, the fabric shredding under his fingers as he sought to free the brand from the slightest touch. His scrawny chest heaved, sweat rolling off him as he struggled not to writhe. "What do you need?" 

Steve pointed into the kitchen. "Fri-dge. Jar. Drink. Bet-ter." He snarled out, fighting with each word. Bucky rushed to the fridge and yanked it open. He grabbed the jar full of thick dark liquid, but Steve was convulsing when he returned, the brand burning impossibly brighter.

In an attempt to get the liquid into Steve, Bucky got the jar too close to one of Steve's spasmodically jerking arms, and the jar went flying, smashing spectacularly.

The smell of blood filled the air. Bucky dipped his fingers in the liquid and sniffed closely to be sure. The stuff oozing across the floor in a dark shining puddle was blood.

He stared between Steve and the blood for a long moment, then he made a very important decision. The blood across the floor wasn't going to do Steve much good now.

Pulling a knife from his boot, he flicked it open and gripped it tightly. Blood welled up in his palm, dark and warm. Bucky dropped the knife and clamped his hand over Steve's mouth. He could feel teeth and lips,soft and chapped, and then he felt tongue as Steve stopped fighting weakly to free himself and realized what was happening, the punk. His convulsions slowed and twitched to a stop.

A little sick, Bucky watched Steve's eyes glow bright as he drank Bucky's own blood, fresh, hot. The glyph was fading fast. Was vampirism part of demonology?

Eventually, Steve pushed Bucky's hand away. The brand was dark on Steve's chest, though the skin around it looked seriously burnt. Bucky pressed his palm to his stomach, waiting.

"Dammit, Buck," Steve sighed. "What the hell?"

"What the hell." Buck repeated. "What. The. Hell."

"Yeah." Steve's eyes fell on the puddle. "You shouldn't have done that. That was absymally stupid."

"I -" Bucky snapped. "You looked like you were dying, Steve!"

"I wasn't!" Steve spat, his teeth tinted with blood. Bucky's blood. 

"I didn't know that!" Bucky yelled.

Steve stared at him. "Why did you bother? You would have been free if I'd died. Free to escape."

"I made a promise." Bucky gritted. "And I will keep it to the end of the line. And because you saved me, what, six times, I thought I'd return the favor!"

"But. You don't get it. Feeding a demon your blood ..." Steve trailed off. "That was animal blood in the jar. Human blood ..." His head thumped back against the door. "Bucky ..."

"Talk." Bucky growled. "Explain. Human blood?"

"It's rich with life and energy." Steve began slowly. "And it comes at a high cost, usually a deal, because freely given, it's ... It's old magic, blood magic, and I don't know how to explain to you, you idiot." Steve's eyes shut and opened, and he suddenly looked older than the planet. "Bucky, we're linked now. Linked in ways that are messy and binding and ... usually, demons drink so much blood from their, er, customers, drink so much that the mortal dies. It's serious stuff, this link. I don't ... I don't know how it will play out."

"You aren't going to kill me to sever it?" Bucky half teased.

Steve glared. "After all I've done!" He exclaimed. "After fucking all I've done, dammit, you think I'd kill you off? What the fuck. NO. No, I am not. It'd be like an artist burning his own masterpiece." He shook his head repeatedly. "What the fuck, man."  He snapped his shirt back into its original pattern.

Bucky laughed. He genuinely laughed, honestly amused. Even happy. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but in that moment, everything - Steve, him - seemed okay, and it was enough to bring laughter bursting out of his core and up through his throat.  He laughs until it hurt and Steve was reluctantly smiling.

"You done, pal?" He queried as Bucky quieted. Bucky nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun note: I spent waaaaaaay too much money and bought the Captain America trilogy tonight and watched CA: TFA. The stellar acting of Hayley Atwell, Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans inspired this chapter. I'm still giddy with glee that I OWN THEM NOW. ME. I DO. WHOO HOO. 
> 
> Anywho. Thanks for the kudos and comments! Ppreciate those, seriously. They make me almost as happy as my new movies.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CA: TWS is the beautifulest beauty. Tell me your favorite of the Cap trilogy?

"You want me to what?" Bucky stammered. 

"Move in with me. It's not that difficult of a concept. Your apartment is small and less fun than mine. I have the room. It'd cut done the travel between our places, and you'd be safe." Steve repeated calmly, scrubbing blood off the floor with a rag. "I thought we could move your stuff tonight."

"Hold the fuck up." Bucky shook his head sitting against the back of the couch. "You're offering me rooms, plural, here-" He gestured at the view. "All because ... because you want me to be safe? Are you worried I won't keep my promise?"

"No. I trust your word." Steve answered immediately. "Earlier, I mentioned I get this suite for free. It's because I've placed my protection over this whole building." Bucky stared at the reddish stain left on the floorboards. Steve was protecting this building? "My world is full of things worse than those three you saw on my cameras. You need nonmortal guarding, and I can offer that."

"Why would they go after me?"

"To get at me." Steve answered quietly. "You'll be percieved as something valuable to me, especially with our link. Leverage. And I won't have you used as a sacrificial pawn to get me to make a move. If you don't want to move in with me, that's fine, but we're putting up every ward in your apartment tonight." 

Bucky thought of the cheap, dirty, and depressing hole he lived in, and looked around at the spacious and clean place that was Steve's. He didn't know how he felt about having a room mate, but considering the circumstances, he'd rather have a room mate than be in danger. He gritted his teeth. He wasn't safe, it seemed. He's known it. He wasn't safe and that hurt and the flickerings of fear and - Steve was talking.

"You'd get your own bathroom, bedroom and miscellaneous room if you move in." He sounded uncertain. Bucky checked in with his expression and realized he was scowling heavily. 

"Could I bring some of my stuff?" He asked. 

"What? Yeah, of course. Yeah. You mean - I guess -"

"I'll move in." Bucky decided. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"Warn me!" He yelled, wrenching free of Steve's arm around his waist. "Please, God, warn me before you teleport us!"

"Sorry." Steve muttered before someone banged on the wall at the noise Bucky had made. "Alright, what do you want to take? Bed? Couch? Let's start gathering."

It turned into a long, intensive cleaning session somewhere along the way, but Bucky finally stood in a moderately clean living room with a pile of things he wanted to take. There were two suitcases of clothes. Three boxes. His journal and a few books. His weapons. His uniform. Pictures. His computer, which Steve made fun of. His TV and sinfully comfortable reclining armchair. A quilt bundled up with odds and ends like toiletries and headphones and a mug Becca had painted for him back in highschool. His shoes. He stood in front of the pile of things on and around his armchair and frowned. His life had so little. His mom had a garage full of things she would have found necessary to bring, and a houseful of things she would have wanted to bring. Him? He had an armchair of stuff. 

"You sure you won't overexert yourself?" Bucky checked. Steve snorted.

"I know I've given you little reason to believe it, but I am strong. Honestly, e type of strength I possess is hard and dangerous to drain."

"That brand -" Bucky started.

Steve interrupted. "You've just seen me at two very rare occasions. With the boost fresh blood gives, I could transfer your entire apartment." He rubbed absently at his chest where the brand lay. "I'll actually probably vaporize what you don't take, so we don't have to deal with it. You okay with that?" Steve checked. Bucky shrugged.

They teleported back into Steve's apartment, to a room with a bed and a dresser and thin black curtains over the window. Suitcases and boxes went against the wall. Journal and computer went atop the dresser, weapons and pictures under the bed, his uniform in the closet. He and Steve slid the armchair over to the corner of the room opposite the door, leaving the TV nestled atop it. 

"You hungry?" Steve queried as he propped his hands over his hips and looked around the room. It was big enough that Bucky felt like he could breathe, and the wooden floor shone

"You just ate." Bucky said with a wry glance at Steve.

Steve made a face. "That was like an energy drink. Or a very delicious smoothie."

"You calling me a smoothie?" Bucky sat on the bed, amused again. His life was weird. But strangely good. Something crackled and he froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing some plotting. Let me know what you guys want from this :) 
> 
> the kudos givers are very wonderful peeps, thank y'all!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worth of words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been crazy, sorry for the late update. Hope you enjoy.

Something crackled, and he froze.

Steve, however, gestured calmly for him to get up, and pulled a damn comic book from under the blanket. "Pietro." He sighed. "One of my proteges. He has this obsession with some super hero team called the Avengers or something like that. Sorry to startle you." Bucky smiled a little. He didn't ask about Pietro, lost a bit in memories of that days he'd enjoyed comic books and graphic novels.

"I'm taking someone's room?" Bucky then realized. It had looked empty. He folded his arm over his chest. "Steve -"

"I can literally open pocket dimensions to make my freezer hold more ice cream; don't worry about my guest room space." Steve assured him. Bucky nodded slowly, still feeling twinges of guilt. "Would you like some time to settle in?" Steve asked, noticing his subdued mood. Bucky nodded again, his eyes distant and pained. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed as Steve left, closing the door behind him. 

It was nearly nine, he realized, and he'd visited a billionaire to get an arm - which he was still somewhat in shock about - actually eaten a meal, watched a magic squad attack his friend, fed his blood to a demon, agreed to a room mate, and moved into a new apartment.

A new room just reminded him of his original room, the one at his family home, the one with the red and blue walls of his early childhood. They'd been covered in pictures and posters, some of which had been comic based, when he'd left. He wondered if they were still up or if his parents had taken them down and put them carefully in boxes in the basements. They firmly believed in storing memories in the basement; he could trace his whole life through those boxes. Well, his life up until he'd left home and joined the army. 

Memories of war brought darkness creeping in at the edges of his mind, tiny soldiers of depression and despair and rage and confusion and exhaustion that gunned down his faint satisfaction at what he'd accomplished today. Bucky sank back onto the bed.

He was about to curl up and try to sleep when Steve peeked back in, "Hey, I hope you - Buck?" Something in Bucky's expression must be off. "What's going on in your head?" 

"I'm ... I'm not sure if I'm ready for this." He blurted. "I screw everything up. I am a failure, Steve, and a fucked up piece of shit. You're going to hate me or pity me and I can't stand either."

Steve leaned against the doorway. "James." he said quietly. "Give me some credit. You're making your metaphorical bed out of needles and lying down on it naked. You don't have to. Add pillows, dammit. Add pillows and Kevlar and blankets. Give yourself time. Give yourself a little compassion instead of hatred and pity. And know this: NO mistake you make would be worse than losing you. We're linked, Bucky, and I mean that. To the end of the line."

Bucky looked over at Steve. "I don't deserve it. I'm not worth it. I don't even trust myself right now; why should you believe in me?"

"I know you don't believe in yourself. That's what I'm here for right now, because I do believe in you and you can't stop me. Calm down. Everything will be okay. Don't freak out over change."

"I'm still unsure if I want to be alive, and everything is changing so fast, and I don't know what you want, who you are or much of anything about you, and that's freaking me out cuz I just moved in with you and how do we know you won't kick me out in a week and I don't know what you expect and I don't want to mess up!" He burst out. "So don't tell me to not freak out!"

Steve came and sat beside when and waited until Bucky met his gaze. "You deserve it. You are worth it. I believe in you. Everything will eventually be okay." He murmured. "You need to rest. I'll be on the couch if you need anything."

Bucky stayed completely still, the words running through his mind. You deserve it. You are worth it. I believe in you. Everything will eventually be okay. Steve had seen his crap. Steve had saved him from his crap several times. And Steve believed in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone out there struggling, Steve is talking to you as well. So listen.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends and flirting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long chapter for all my lovelies out there! Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Huge thanks to forgottentypewriter for writing Pietro with me. You're my Slytherin angel, darling, I appreciate you.

Bucky woke up, his pillow wet with tears, and stared at the lines and patterns of a new ceiling. This room smelled like a storm and the faintest trace of iron, as well as the incongruous scent of lemon cleaner. His mouth tasted like blood. He must have bitten his tongue in his sleep. 

He sat up, slow as a mountain, his head still full of the flashes of war, and checked the watch on his wrist. 0500.  Well, sleep seemed like a bad idea for the moment, so he crawled over to his suitcase and started organizing the clothes into his drawers.

"G'morning." When Steve knocked around seven, he was almost done refolding his shirts.

"You can come in. Sorry for freaking out on you." Bucky said, assuming Steve would be able to hear through the door. "Last night." The door cracked open. Bucky didn't glance back, though every instinct in him protested. 

Steve murmured. "You don't have to look at me, but listen. You do not have to apologize. You're not in this by yourself. You aren't on your own. You are not alone." 

Bucky nodded slowly, unable to process that but appreciating the words all the same. He turned to Steve then. "What do you need?" 

Steve smiled. "I hoped I'd find you still conked out, but it looks like you're making this room your own. I'm glad. Do you have any idea of what you want to turn your other room into?" 

"I'll save up and put exercise equipment in there." Bucky replied. He would like that. Steve had the sense to not offer to buy it all for him. A faint smile crossed Bucky's face. 

"I came to let you know that I'm having my proteges over for breakfast. They're good people. You don't have to join us, but I'd like having you with us if you don't mind."  

Steve slipped out, leaving Bucky to think. New people. People that Steve vouched for, though. He wished Stark had already gotten him the arm. Having a metal limb would be far easier to explain than the gaping emptiness  of his sleeve. He eventually changed into jeans and a different t-shirt and emerged anyways, deciding that he wanted to eat fresh food at the table, people or not. 

Steve's answering smile at his appearance made something stir with pleased happiness in him. He smiled back, and Steve opened his mouth. A knock came at the door before Steve could speak. 

Bucky watched in curiosity as two young adults entered. They looked like they were in their early twenties, and they were so very different. The boy was tall and dirty blond in a skin tight exercise shirt and joggers. He grinned carelessly, cockily confident in his appeal, and walked in with the ease of someone who knows they're welcome wherever they go. Someone who's always been cool. Bucky felt a twinge of jealousy. He remembered those days. 

The girl was considerably smaller, her dark reddish hair loose around her face, her black leather jacket too big on her. It made her look smaller, vulnerable, until you saw the faint smile on her face. It was a clever, dangerous sort of smile. She wasn't a cool kid; she sang the word edgy as she walked in in her ripped leggings and leather, managing to make the ensemble look as if it were something newly designed for her specifically. Bucky felt an edge of wariness. He didn't want to know what happened if you got on her bad side. 

The boy fist bumped Steve and the girl gave him a quick side hug affectionately before their gazes turned to Bucky. The boy grinned, looking between Steve and Bucky whereas the girl studied him, her eyes narrowed. 

"Pietro, Wanda, this is Bucky. Bucky, Pietro and Wanda." Steve smiled, standing between them all. 

"Hello," he shrugged, uncomfortable as he turned and their gazes landed on his empty sleeve. Bucky reminded himself that Steve liked these kids, and made himself smile a bit, painfully. "Pietro and Wanda? I think I stole your bedroom, Pietro." Pietro's grin paused, and he looked between Steve and Bucky again. Oh gods. He'd thought Bucky and Steve were sleeping together. Bucky coughed awkwardly. Wanda elbowed Pietro. 

"Hello, Bucky," she said, faintly accented. "Are you another of Steve's proteges?" 

"I'm -" Bucky hesitated, but Steve didn't interrupt. "I'm somewhere between a friend and a stray dog, I think." Steve's expression was worth it as Pietro and Wanda laughed. 

"Just wait, you'll be a protege soon enough." Pietro warned in the same accent. "We were his projects before, too." 

"You all are my friends," Steve protested. "Not my projects or strays."

"You found us beat up in an alley and took us home." Wanda pointed out.

"Did he take you home too? I would." Pietro smirked at Bucky. Steve frowned. Wanda elbowed Pietro again, harder this time.

"He saved my life." Bucky said softly, smiling at Pietro who was clutching his side as if he's been punched.  Their gazes widened. Bucky winced. Great, now he'd killed the conversation. Wonderful. He was such an idiot. "Sorry." He mumbled.

"He did?" Pietro questioned, eyes still wide as he looked between Steve and Bucky before narrowing his eyes with a smirk. "I'll have to remember to thank him for that later then." 

"Make sure you do," Bucky drawled.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's a charmer. Don't encourage him." She stage whispered. A line appeared in Steve's forehead as Bucky grinned. Again, he remembered the days when he had been exactly like Pietro. He relaxed. Flirting with the guy could be fun. He hadn't flirted in forever, and Pietro didn't seemed bothered by his missing arm.

Pietro held back a laugh, then he gave in, letting out a rich chuckle. "Honestly, you could stay with me if you wanted to get away from him, sweetie." He winked at Bucky.

Bucky chuckled right back. This kid. This kid was exactly what he needed after yesterday and last night. "But we haven't even gone on a first date, baby doll."  He purred, leaning back in his chair.

Wanda glared at Pietro. He glanced over at her with a grin and then at Steve. Steve looked a bit red, and Bucky wondered if he'd annoyed Steve. He squashed down his worry. "Isn't that what we're doing right now?" Pietro replied. "Wanda and Steve, me and you, it's like a - " Pietro thought for a moment before snapping his fingers. "A group date!" 

Wanda snorted at that. "Thanks, Pietro. You pair me with a gay man. I appreciate that." She shook her head. "I thought we were here for breakfast, not a flirtfest." 

Steve cleared his throat. "I was thinking waffles and bacon."

Pietro turned to Wanda. "Sister, he's a lovely man. I'm sure you can get over that small fun fact. Besides, your pestering is ruining the mood of my date, so if you could not, I would very much appreciate that. You, too, Steve." He said, smiling dazzlingly before turning back to Bucky. "Sorry, dear, where were we? What shall we have for breakfast? Something ordered in? Or we could share something!" Pietro exclaimed, winking at Bucky.

"I have ingredients in my kitchen." Steve put in. He was eying Pietro in a half amused, half annoyed way. His eyes went a little more serious as he looked at Bucky. "Does making food sound good to you?"

"You two make it, we'll enjoy our date." Pietro dropped into the seat next to Bucky and took his hand. Bucky flinched instinctively. 

Pietro noticed, letting go instantly before simply setting his hand down by Bucky's. He leaned over near Bucky's ear before whispering: "You don't mind this, do you? I mean, like, damn, you're something I would love to eat up, but obviously Steve's staked his claim, and as it is so much fun to mess with him, you don't mind playing along, right?" He asked, pulling away slightly but still close to Bucky's face. 

Bucky blinked. Steve had ... staked his claim? On him? The demon had spent like a day with him. He glanced at the expression on Steve's face and let a slow smirk roll over his face. He hadn't seen it in a while, but he knew jealousy when he saw it. How had he not seen it before? Something stirred deep in him, but Bucky drew away from it. It felt too serious for the moment. He turned his smirk to Pietro. "Yeah, baby. Definitely." He wanted to mess with Steve. Badly.  

Pietro grinned so hard it looked like it hurt. "Perfect." He said before glancing at Bucky's hand and his own, looking back up at him questioningly. Bucky reached over and laced his fingers between Pietro's.

Steve turned from grabbing ingredients and dropped the flour bag. It puffed over the floor in a white explosion, and Steve managed to look more annoyed. "PDA? Really? This is supposed to be a friends breakfast, not a double date."

"You got a problem with it, ask him on a date yourself." Pietro put in. Wanda grabbed the broom and tossed it at Pietro. He caught it and glanced at her.

"Sweep, you idiot." She ordered.

Pietro raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you fix this? I didn't make the mess. I've just been -"

Steve interrupted. "Bucky." Bucky looked up at him, away from Pietro and Wanda. "Will you go on a date with me?" He asked in one rushed breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwaahahahahaha, the cliff hanger! I'll update asap, no worries


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different perspectives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written as I listened to The Night We Met by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, so if any of y'all do the sound track thing, that's what song I used to inspire the feeling of this chapter. I love the song.

Zola prowled the streets in a smoke of concealment, his glassy eyes disdainfully scanning the pedestrians. He scented the air with a singular purpose. 

{Any sign of him?} He inquired. 

{Not yet} Rumlow growled. {No, sir} Rollins reported. The replies came inaudibly, a communication of minds. 

{Then look harder!} Zola shrieked. He could sense their winces through their link. The pedestrians in front of him drew away at his snarling expression as he stalked forward, scenting, searching. 

When he scented Them - far before they appeared in his line of vision - he slowed to the pace of the crowd, pasted on a smile, and thickened the smoke of concealment around him with the press of a button in his trenchcoat pocket. 

They walked by, just as casually as he walked, and he sneered. They thought They were his match. They knew he was here because of a mistake of Rollins, and the hound had paid for it. However, They dared to presume that The Shield was his superior, that he would grovel to obey Their Code, that They would brand him. Were he not on a mission, he would take Their presumptions and rip them to shreds.

He felt through the link again, glimpsing what his two bondsmen saw and sensed. Nothing of interest yet. He smiled nastily. No matter. He would look until he found Steven at long last. If it took burning the city down to bone and ash, so be it. Zola find him, and Zola would crush him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Tony sat back from the project, his eyes aching, his fingers shaking slightly as he relaxed his tight, precise control of them. "Boom," he whispered to his bots. "Look what Daddy's making. That's right, the most beautiful thing since his suits." 

There had been something in Bucky's eyes that had pushed Tony. People thought he was unobservant because he let them, but for god's sake, he was a genius. He noticed everything. He took a deep breath, and the shaking in his hands settled a little. 

Bucky. The guy looked like a homeless ex-biker gang dude, yet he walked around with a name like Bucky. That was the name for, like, your pet woodchuck. Tony sighed. If only he were in charge of naming everything. He was so much better at it than everyone else. He would have named Bucky Old Man Winter, for example. His eyes were ancient in his face, and what with his long sleeves and grimace, he looked terrifyingly cold. Steve had weird friends. Though Tony was willing to bet that there was more than friendship there. He knew what love looked like, and Steve looked at Bucky like Tony looked at Pepper. 

Speaking of which, the date with Pepper had been nice. He'd even gotten a kiss before she made him go into the meetings and listen to the shit his company was busy doing. Back to the date, he chided himself. He didn't want to remember the meetings. Ugh.

They'd run into Peter at the cafe on a date with some girl named MD or something. Again, Tony should have been in charge of naming people. He referred to Peter's date as Smart&Sassy in his head. She'd reminded Tony of himself. He wondered what that said about Peter. Pete had looked happy, at least. Happy and amused. Smart&Sassy had gotten him to smile enough that it had actually distracted Tony from Pepper. She had rolled her eyes when Tony realized she was waiting for a reply to a question he hadn't been paying attention to. It was the waiter's fault for putting Tony within eyesight of Peter and Smart&Sassy. 

"Why don't you offer him an internship?" Pepper had asked him for the second time. Tony shrugged. Mostly it was because he thought he'd be a shit teacher, and Peter deserved normality in his schooling. He wasn't going to say that, though. Pepper would give him A Look, and he wanted the date to be about them, not about his paternal feelings towards a kid he wasn't even vaguely related to. He'd checked. 

Anyhow, the date had gone well, Pepper had been really smiling at him by the end, and they'd had a great night last night. He sighed. It had been a great night until he had woken up with nightmares and slipped off to the lab. He'd meant to go back before she woke up, but she'd woken up alone, and that added a stone to his mountain of guilt.

Dum-E knocked something over. Tony spit out an insult automatically, going over to fix it, his thoughts distracted. The robot whirred an apology, but Tony still threw a wrench at the bot. 

"Are you going to come eat with me?" Pepper asked from the doorway. "I made us brunch." She didn't hold hard feelings, which was good, because she would have had a mountain of them for Tony if she did. "Are you still beating yourself up?" She asked when he came towards her. "Tony. It's okay." She reached out, pulling him in for a hug and a gentle kiss. "I get it. Don't worry."

"I'm not worrying." He chuckled, and then looked away when she gave him A Look. "Fine, I was worrying. You win. What'd you make for brunch?" His hands wrapped around her waist gently, and he pulled her in for another kiss. She smiled against his lips, letting him deepen the kiss. 

"Well, I'm not for brunch," she finally said, pulling away, taking his hand in hers. "Come on. You haven't eaten real food in too long."

"I had chocolate blueberries an hour ago." He protested. Pepper laughed, her slim fingers fitting between his perfectly. He smiled. Everything seemed okay, so long as he had Pepper.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Odinsen watched Barton replace his weapons in the armory, takeing especial care with the enchanted compact bow that he concealed within his jacket.

Their hunt today had been unsuccessful, despite all their checks. It seemed the three unBranded beings in the city were working by their selves. Maria had been displeased as she had checked with team after team and gotten nothing.

When the man had left, Odinsen went to the back of the room, where glass engraved with runes separated the particularly dangerous weapons from anyone without proper authorization. He still hadn't earned that authorization. His fingers hovered longingly over the glass where a large hammer lay underneath.

It was SR1939's fault he didn't have authorization to wield his hammer. No one else truly could, but the Director claimed he was unstable with it after the fiasco that capturing and breaking SR1939 had been. He rested his hand against the glass and the brand on his back burned. He drew back mournfully. The Shield and The Code were strict. One obeyed or one broke and then obeyed. The only other options were imprisonment or annihilation. The best case scenario was the one that Thor had chosen: employment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I did alright with the different perspectives. Tell me what y'all think! 
> 
> (Comments make me happy enough to write another chapter early!)


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break in updates. I struggled with this chapter and I've been moving out which is exciting and crazy and scary. I'll try to do better
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

Silence. Pietro was gawking, Wanda was wide-eyed.

Steve was blushing. His demon was blushing. Bucky abruptly pushed away from the table and Pietro. "You mean it?" he demanded. Steve nodded mutely. "you want - after - you don't mind?" Bucky asked disconnectedly. Steve nodded again. He looked down at the blond demon, incredulous. Steve had saved his ass repeatedly and invited him to move in, so maybe Bucky should have realized the demon valued him, but -  wow.

Bucky contemplated kissing Steve on the spot. Judging by the look in Steve's eyes, Steve wouldn't mind that in the least. 

Then Pietro broke in. "What? This was my date!" he exclaimed.

Steve actually growled at him, a deep, intimidating noise. "You - dammit, Pietro!" he said as the boy began to laugh. "You're grounded, you imp." 

"Don't live with you anymore," Pietro choked out. Wanda shook her head. Bucky smiled a bit. He definitely liked the personality of this kid. 

His eyes drifted back to Steve. He, he liked Steve too. He had to be careful. He didn't want to drive Steve off. He'd already done so much bad. He wanted to make Steve smile and see the light in those blue eyes. He wanted to have the permission to curl close to Steve when he couldn't sleep. He wanted so much and he'd only just met the guy. His guy. He shook himself. Steve had asked him on a date, for god's sake. Not asked him to get married or shit like that.

"So. What are you two doing for your date?" Pietro queried. 

Steve paused. "How does Paris sound?" He asked Bucky. Bucky blinked once. Twice. What. Paris? 

"Uh." Bucky coughed. Wanda and Pietro were actually smirking at Steve. "That seems ... Like - uh, a lot. I was thinking coffee or something." He shut down the side of his brain that provided graphic images of the 'or something'.

"They have coffee in Paris." Steve muttered. "C'mon, Buck. I can transport us without a problem, I promise." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "There's this beautiful little cafe on the Rue -"

A knock at the door interrupted. Wanda tensed. "The Shield?" She asked. "They stopped by yesterday." She pressed her hand to her hip, grimacing as if it hurt. Bucky guessed her brand lay there. Pietro bristled. "If Agent Vision -" he spat. Wanda sent him a cold glare. 

"They stopped here yesterday, too." Steve commented. He walked to the door slowly as a second knock came. " No one should -" he glanced through the peephole. "What the hell?" He opened the door to reveal a large guy in army fatigues with a huge red mustache.

"Steve. Are you -" his crimson eyes fell on the three people in the kitchen. "Oho. Two gifted and a mortal. I didn't know you'd have breakfast ready." 

"Dum-dum." Steve sighed. "They're friends."

"You've made friends with -" Dum-dum glanced at Bucky. "Him?" His eyes narrowed, and he glanced between Steve and Bucky. He carefully scented the air. "You're sure they're not a meal?" He asked slightly softer, but Bucky was listening hard. "Fee, fie, foe, fum, I smell the blood of a human."

Steve glared at Dum-dum hard enough that the big guy stepped back. "Alright, chief, you do you." He muttered.

"Di you need something?" Steve snapped. 

Dum-dum smiled. "Had a question, but I forgot it." He lied and abruptly disappeared. Steve slammed the door. 

"Should we make breakfast now?" Wanda inquired carefully. Steve nodded, returning to the kitchen. 

"What was that about?" Pietro voiced the real question.

"I don't know." Steve ran a hand over his face. "Dammit. Sorry. Shit. I don't know, you guys. Here, just -" he waved his hand and transported himself away. They all glanced at each other and a loud crash came from another room, followed by a yell. 

Bucky headed towards the sound. He knocked on the likely door. "Steve? What's wrong?"

The door opened and Steve abruptly leaned his head against Bucky's chest. Bucky froze, then slowly, slowly, reached up and ran his fingers through Steve's hair. Steve's shoulders sagged. 

"I don't know. Dum-dum is ..." He grimaced. "He's like one of my classmates, or army buddies - from Hell. We had the same basic goals back then. Since then," Steve pressed his ear over Bucky's heart. "I've grown up. Learned. He, he and the others, they haven't. Not really. What I do know is that nothing good will probably come of that."

**Author's Note:**

> Woo. What'd you think? Tell me! Comments give me life - that and sassy demon Steve.


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